


Amazing Grace

by stellarmeadow



Series: Season 3 codas/missing scenes [19]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, episode 320
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve needs some reminders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amazing Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately after the end of 3.20, so spoilers for that ep. Title has nothing to do with Danny's daughter, but is taken from the song, because it fit so well. :)
> 
> ~~~

Steve dug his feet into the sand, the fine grains grounding him. If he concentrated on what he could feel, hear, touch and smell, he could stay here and not be drawn into memories best left in the past.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the mixture of saltwater and plumeria that smelled like home. The scratchy wool of his uniform pants was prickly against his legs. He'd lost his jacket, tie, shoes and socks when he'd gotten home, but only unbuttoned the shirt a little and rolled up the sleeves, anxious to find the comfort of the beach.

Other sights, sounds and smells drifted through his mind as he sat there. He remembered the smell of Kelly's shampoo from the funeral, the way Freddie's daughter's cheek was softer than Grace's as she'd hugged him, Mrs. Hart's makeup, and the faint smell of Old Spice from Mr. Hart. 

Cath's gentle hug, the way she pushed aside his thanks as she let him go, said a lot of things about the amazing person she was, but he'd known all of those things about her already. Just as he'd known his team would always have his back, even in this. He'd known he'd find them there, knew just where to look. Their hugs after the funeral had been familiar and warm.

And Danny. Who'd pressed the keys to the Camaro in Steve's hand, metal and plastic still warm from Danny's pocket, as he'd hugged Steve after the funeral. He'd guided Steve to the car and put him behind the driver's seat, put him in control, when he hadn't felt in control for days. 

Danny, who Steve could hear walking softly through the grass behind him, bottles clinking on ice in the bucket Steve's dad had used, the one that had seen better days, but he couldn't bear to replace it. Even the small holes in the side didn't matter, not for this purpose.

He heard Danny sat down, and opened his eyes, turning his head to see Danny holding out an open Longboard. It was cold and wet, the label already a little tacky against Steve's palm as he took it. "Thanks."

His voice felt rough, like the sand from the beach had gotten into his throat a little. 

Danny nodded, taking a sip of his own beer before eyeing Steve. "You wanna talk about it?"

Steve shook his head. 

"You _need_ to talk about it?"

He phrased it as a question, but Steve could hear the command behind it. "You already know the story," Steve said. He'd had time to tell the whole team about Freddie, about why he was going on the mission.

Okay, he might've left a few things out, but he wasn't sure just how much Danny wanted to know. 

"I know the mission, yeah," Danny said softly. "Tell me the rest."

Steve huffed before taking a long drink. The beer was cold and bitter, burning his throat a little. Where to start? "You'd have liked him," Steve said. "He was a smart ass, always fighting with his wife, and couldn't wait to be a dad."

"I guess nobody can say you don't have a type?" 

Steve laughed, the emotion feeling both wrong and right at the same time. "Funny," he said, sobering a little. "He was...." There wasn't a word to describe Freddie. "He was something else," Steve said at last. "He wanted two things out of life, to serve his country and to make his father proud."

"He did both very well."

Steve nodded. "He did. And he had my back until the end." Steve looked over at Danny. "He almost quit during BUD/s. I stopped him."

"That's part of having someone's back," Danny said. "Not letting them do something stupid in a moment of weakness."

"I knew he'd never forgive himself. So I stopped him." He remembered the cold rain that night, soothing the sting of the cut from their fight. "And he became a SEAL. And then I handpicked him for the mission, and he watched my back, like always. But the price was too high."

Danny's eyes narrowed just a bit, the way that Steve had decided put some filter in place that let Danny see right into Steve's brain. "He wouldn't have considered it too high."

"Don't you think his little girl does?" Steve countered, remembering how small she'd been as he'd placed her father's tags around her neck. "She never knew her father."

"I know something about being a father," Danny said, leaning in, his eyes intense. "And I can promise you that he wouldn't have thought it was a cost. He was protecting the land his little girl was going to grow up in. There is no cost too high for that."

"How can you say that?" Steve asked. "You didn't know him."

"I know you." 

His own words echoed back at him, with a depth of emotion he could hear in each word. He wondered if Danny had any idea how much he and Freddie had in common, how much of Steve's early conscription of Danny had been like saving Freddie from himself all over again.

How much he'd needed Danny back then.

He still did, but it wasn't the same. It was better. Danny had given him a home for the first time in decades, one that wasn't tied solely to the Navy and duty. They'd carved out their own family with their team. 

How ironic that Danny, who'd hated Hawaii, had given Hawaii back to Steve.

Steve closed his eyes again. He could smell Danny over the ocean and flowers, could hear his particular breathing pattern over the waves. He knew from the sounds that Danny had started to reach out and then stopped, his hand falling heavily on the table between them.

Steve put his hand on top of Danny's, finding it without opening his eyes. "There's been so much loss," Steve said, squeezing his eyes to weed out the wetness threatening there. "And I never seem to be able to stop it."

"I know that you think you're some kind of all powerful god," Danny said quietly. "But you're a human. You get that, right? You may be Super SEAL, but that doesn't give you omniscience. Or, for that matter, bullet proof skin and unbreakable bones. And you can't save everyone."

"I know that."

"Do you?" Danny's hand turned under his to lace their fingers together. "I mean, I know you say you do, but deep down, do you really?"

Steve opened his eyes and met Danny's gaze. "I do. Doesn't mean I can't try."

"Try all you want," Danny said. "I'll be right beside you. But at the end of the day, don't beat yourself up because you saved ninety-nine lives but couldn't save just one more."

"I don't beat myself up over all of them."

Danny's look said he thought otherwise, but he didn't say it out loud. "Come on," he said instead, standing up, using his hold on Steve to pull him to his feet. 

"Where?"

"Upstairs." Danny tugged Steve forward until they were pressed against each other, then reached up for a kiss. His lips were warm and wet, tasting faintly of beer and Danny, and Steve wanted to lose himself in them for a while. "I'll remind you of all the good things in the world," Danny whispered, lips moving against Steve's.

He couldn't help but smile. "All of them?"

He felt, more than saw, Danny shrug. "Enough of them that you won't notice what's missing."

Steve shook his head at that, nose bumping Danny's lightly in the process. Things were gone, people were gone. But not forgotten. Never forgotten. And as long as they were remembered, they weren't missing. 

He smiled, small, but real, digging his feet into the sand one more time. "Maybe nothing's really missing after all."

\---  
END

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>


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